


A Nice, Friendly Kidnapping

by bench



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Homestuck Rarepair Swap, If Pale Porn Were Really A Thing This Would Have A Different Rating, M/M, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-12
Updated: 2015-03-12
Packaged: 2018-03-17 11:48:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3528281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bench/pseuds/bench
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein Eridan Ampora, heir to the Orphaner shipping/privateering empire, is kidnapped and beat up by nefarious villains for blackmail purposes while Dave Strider, his bodyguard/moirail, is bound to a wall and unable to intervene; featuring graphic pacification inappropriate for grubs under six.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Nice, Friendly Kidnapping

**Author's Note:**

  * For [9nlyAFewTriggers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/9nlyAFewTriggers/gifts).



You start to become aware of a general uncomfortableness and really wish that you had just stayed unconscious. Your head pounds like the bastard lovechild of your worst hangover ever and a pretty bad concussion. The room tilts and sways under you and you have to press your hands to the ground to keep from falling over. This leads you to your first observation about your surroundings. You seem to be propped up against a wall. You can't remember right now just how you got there, but you can't be bothered about it now. Ow.

You try to focus on crawling your way out of this mental fog because maybe that will hurt less. It helps a little. The wall you are sitting against feels cool against your back through your shirt, probably concrete or metal. You want to press your aching head against it, but moving is way more than you can handle right now. At the same time there is a nagging worry in the back of your head, but you can't seem to summon up whatever it is. You head hurts too much to concentrate.

There is a low hum against your back that would indicate either running air conditioning or ship engines, you can't tell which. There are no visual cues to be had; it's pitch fucking black. You aren't sure yet if that's because it's dark, or because there is something over your face. You tip your head a fraction of a degree to the side, gritting your teeth through the pain. There is no telltale shift of fabric or a mask moving with you, so probably just dark. There are some worrying implications to that.

Your head seems to be clearing up enough to start actually thinking. The fog is fading faster than a hangover would, and you don't feel lightheaded enough to chalk it up to a concussion, which also has some worrying implications. There isn't a single thing on the very short list of non-self-inflicted causes of unconsciousness that are good news. You wrack your brain to figure out what the hell you were doing last that would have gotten you all fucked up in a dark room and that gets you to remember what it is you are supposed to be worrying about.

The last thing you remember you were in the passenger's lounge in the _Fallen Angel,_ which means that right now you're supposed to be on the goddamn job. Alone (as far as you can tell) and fucked up in a pitch black room is a profoundly incorrect place for a bodyguard to be. Fuck, fuck, fuck, how the goddamn hell are you supposed to keep anyone safe like this? Any damn thing could be happening to your charge right now and you are completely powerless to stop it. The surge of adrenaline that companies this revelation sobers you right up. So to speak. Your outlook doesn't get any less bleak with a clearer head. There is no sword pressed between your back and the wall or digging into your hip, no comforting weight of familiar weapons. You start to get your legs under you and hear the clinking sound of a chain. There is a pressure around your right ankle that would indicate a shackle. So you are imprisoned and defenseless in an unfamiliar location. Fan-fucking-tastic.

At least your hands are free so you aren't totally useless. You start to feel around you, looking for any clue as to where you might be. You find the bolt your chain is attached to and are starting to feel down its length when you hear a faint noise, like a groan or a moan. You aren't as alone in here as you thought. The tone is familiar too. You feel a surge of hope.

"Eridan?" you whisper. Your dry throat cracks over your charge's name, and you try again, louder. Nothing.

You force yourself onto your knees, which sends the room rocking and your head pounding again, but it only lasts a moment and you push through it. You crawl along the wall as far as you can still chained up and reach out, but you don't feel anything more than smooth, featureless metal. The room must be a lot bigger than the closet you assumed it was. You didn't reach a corner in either direction. You sit back on you heels and try to come up with something to do other than say Eridan's name over and over until he answers. You don't come up with anything. You're trying to remain professional here, but it is almost impossible when your duty is also your moirail and if something goes really wrong here you are going to lose so much more than a job.

This is all your fault really. You don't know how, but it has to be. Your task is to keep him safe. You oversee a cadre of guards, computer experts, and pilots, all to the end of protecting him. If any one of them failed it's on you. How the hell would you live with yourself if something awful happened and you failed to prevent it. Usually it would be here that he caught the rampant self-criticism spiral and pulled you out of it with his wonderfully cool hands, but you had to go and _fucking lose him_!

The door slams open with a burst of light that pounds into your eyes like paired ice picks. You fall back onto your ass and blank out for a moment.

"… is awake," you hear as your head starts to clear again.

"Not the one we need. Get the troll up. They've probably noticed that he's missing by now and we need to move quick," a second voice replies. Sounds bossy.

Your eyes are still screwed shut against the light, but your mind is working fast. They're speaking English, so probably human. They know who they've got so this isn't a random hit on a high-class transport. It's a kidnapping. Exactly the thing you are paid to prevent.

You push yourself back up into a crouch and force your eyes open. There are three of them silhouetted against the light streaming in through the door. No horns. One of makes a quick gesture with something in its hands and a few stray drops of water splash across your face. There is a sputtering gasp from your right as Eridan is jolted awake. Overhead lights switch on.

"Little Dualscar," the bossy human sneers. Eridan groans. The human chuckles. "Bring in the stuff, we haven't got all day. There is a flurry of motion as the other two humans start dragging things into the room. As your eyes finally start to adjust you take in a chair with thick straps on the arms and legs, a chunky looking camera on a tripod, and what looks like a whole stack of computer stuff.

You try to avoid looking at Eridan. You're worried enough as it is without seeing if they've fucked him up. You need to be able to focus and figure out a way to get you both out of here, not agonizing over the state of him. Now that you know he is here you finally have the capacity to plan. No one is paying attention to you in the bustle. The bossy human is reading over a sheaf of papers while the others get the camera and computer stuff running. You take the opportunity to do a little reconnaissance, reaching down to feel out the shackle around your ankle. There is no seam that you can feel, only a small indentation for a fingerprint scanner and the loop where the chain attaches. You run your hands up the short length of the chain as quietly as you can, trying to feel for a weakness you can exploit. The plate where the chain is bolted to the wall feels just as secure as the rest of the setup. With no obvious way of getting out of here that wouldn't attract unwanted attention, you resign to waiting through whatever it is they have in store now. If you both live through this, you can find a way out when they leave you alone again.

That settled, you let yourself look up at your alien bff-slash-life-partner. They have dragged him over to the chair and strapped his arms and legs to it. He doesn't look any worse for wear than you do, but seems to be shaking off whatever they drugged you with much more slowly than you did. His eyes are narrowed to slits against the light, face twisted with pain. You burn with an almost overwhelming need to go to him. To put his hair in order and smooth the lines out of his brow. To tell him that it's all going to be ok. You are going to find a way to make it ok.

According to your internal clock you were out for over two hours, and it's been half an hour since you came too. Your ship was supposed to rendezvous with the _Cuttlefish_ more than an hour ago. This ship can't have gotten far from wherever they picked you up in that time and space is no doubt already swarming with ships looking for you. The Heiress' ships are simply the fastest there is. Give it another hour at most before you are found if you can't escape yourself before then. So it will. Be ok.

A few moments later the tone of the conversation changes and your pull yourself out of your reverie. The bossy human is standing beside Eridan with an officious look on his face. You want to punch it off.

"Ok, the connection is good, we're ready to broadcast," says the goon in front of the computer stuff.

"Droog, wake him up properly," the bossy human snaps.

The last human steps up and slaps Eridan a few times across the face. You grimace as his head snaps to the side and his eyes fly open.

"Who," Eridan starts, but his voice comes out a pained rasp and he starts to cough.

The bossy human snaps his fingers at the one at the computer. "Get the brat some water so we can get this show on the road."

"Alright boy," the bossy human sneers once Eridan has had a drink, "it's a nice, friendly kidnapping we've got here. No funny business. There's a message we want to send to your daddy. Cooperate and you'll be back in his loving embrace before you even think to miss him. If you don’t wanna cooperate… well this here is an airlock. I'm sure you can tell what I'm getting at here."

You can see Eridan's throat move as he swallows hard. "You got it, boss," he manages to say. Again you are assaulted with the urge to tell him how good he's doing and that you are going to be out of here soon. You grit your teeth and wait.

"That's what I like to hear." He turns back towards the camera. "Roll it." The computer goon fiddles with it for a moment, than nods at the boss.

"Hello Orphaner. You know who we are and you know what we want, but my employer doesn't think that you were taking our offer with the seriousness it deserved. So I wanted to take this opportunity to show you just how serious we are." He pivots at the waist with textbook perfect form and punches Eridan in the face hard enough to slam his head into the back of the chair in an overlapping thud-thud. Blood pours from his nose and he half coughs, half spits out another mouthful of violet.

"W-who the hell do you-" he starts, but the human cuts him off with a sharp slap.

"Shut the fuck up, did I say you could talk?" he snarls. Eridan whimpers.

The boss-human turns back to the camera and starts talking again, but you barely hear him. There is a rushing in your ears and you're seeing red. Your fingernails are digging painfully into your palms and you can't unclench your hands. How fucking dare they. How can they use him against his ancestor like he is just another pawn in whatever stupid game this is they're playing. You wrench your attention back on what he's saying. This could be important later.

"Look at how easy it was to take your little heir," the thug continues, grabbing a handful of hair and angling his face so that it's straight on to the camera. "What do you think we'll take next? I can promise you that it won't be something so… expendable." He pauses to grin nastily. "Now I'm not an unreasonable man and neither is my employer, so of course we're gonna give him back. He won't be in the condition we found him in, though. We want this to be a lesson that sticks so you don't forget who you're dealing with."

He steps out of the way and his muscle steps into the frame.

" _He_ won't be able to forget for a long, long time," the bossy human taunts, and walks out of the room. "Don't you fucking kill him," he calls back over his shoulder as he vanishes out of view. The big thug sniggers and cracks his knuckles as he moves forward. Eridan cringes back and you are on your feet before you consciously decide to move.

The chair and the thug are well out of range, and there is nothing you can do but watch as he slams his fist into Eridan's stomach. Eridan tries to suck in a breath, fails, and vomits all down his front. Your shriveled heart breaks. He such a fucking fanatic about his appearance and in no time at all they've reduced him to this. You want so badly to fix everything that you are sick with it.

Eridan takes a few more blows coming out of each one wheezing for breath. Your head is full of thoughts of cracked ribs and torn gills and bruised organs. The thug hits him a few more times for good measure and then moves back up to his face, scattering around casual blows that snap Eridan's head around. He can't even cry out with the way the wind was knocked out of him.

You notice that you are making more than enough noise for the both of you, cursing the men in three languages at the top of your lungs. Neither of the thugs spare you so much as a glance. Hell, it's probably all part of their little drama, the useless bodyguard yelling off screen just to show how much power they have.

It goes on for what seems like a lifetime, but is probably only a couple of minutes, until Eridan's face is a mosaic of bruises and torn skin and his eyes won't focus any more. The brute is taking a water break when the boss thug reappears in the doorway.

"It looks like they're onto us, time to get the fuck out," he snaps.

"Hey!" you yell. "Don't you fucking dare just leave us here!"

The door slams shut behind the last thug and the shackle around your ankle pops open and falls to the floor with a clang. You dart over to Eridan in the fastest flash step of your life.

"Hey, hey, hey," you murmur, laying your palm against his cheek. He flinches away and you bite your lip bloody trying to hold back a torrent of vitriol that he just doesn't need to hear right now. You were supposed to take care of him. You were supposed to protect him and be there when you needed him, and instead you stood by like the most useless fucker to ever live and watched while he got beaten half to death. Your face is wet and you aren't sure just how long you have been crying.

You pull yourself together in a colossal force of will and remove the restraints from his wrists. He doesn't seem to notice what you have done he's so out of it. You brush your fingers over the welts the straps left behind, but don't touch him anymore. You give him space no matter how hard it is. You wait until he is ready. "Shoosh, shoosh," you whisper as you lace your fingers with his and sink to your knees. "It's going to be ok, we're fine, you're fine. I'm here, ok? I'm here and soon half of space will be here too and we're all gonna take care of you, you're gonna be fine, just fine." You keep holding his hands and talking, looking up at his face hoping for some spark of recognition, some sign that he's in there somewhere.

"Dave?" he croaks after a while.

"Eridan," you sigh with relief. "I'm here, you're here, you're safe, I've got you."

"Dave," he sobs, and uses your still-laced fingers to pull you up into his lap. He wraps his arms around you and cries into your shoulder. You hold him, careful of his bruises, and rock back and forth as best you can, murmuring encouraging words into his ear.

"Those bastards are going to regret the day they ever thought up this moronic little scheme, we're gonna be on 'em like flies on shit, we're gonna make 'em rue the day they were born. Gonna fuck their shit up so bad that they won't even recognize it, looking at their shit like, damn, this has to be someone else's shit because ours was never this fucked up. We'll punch a hole through their operation so big that one of Feferi's giant fucking space whales could swim straight through it and you know how big those goddamn space whales are Eridan, they're so big that a hole they could swim through would be pretty much their whole operation. We'll make 'em pay, Eridan, pay in blood and in any damn thing we can think of, and when we've drained 'em dry we'll just make 'em hurt more until there is nothing left, just nothing left." Eridan nods against you and holds you tighter. You promise yourself that you will keep on talking until he remembers how to not be afraid and to never leave his side until whoever the hell those guys were are broken all the way down to their component molecules. You are still talking and still rocking back and forth in that awful chair when the SWAT team bursts into the room and takes you both away.


End file.
